


Draco Malfoy and the Year He Left Hogwarts

by iamaghost



Series: Draco Malfoy vs The World [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adulthood, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-08-02 01:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamaghost/pseuds/iamaghost
Summary: Draco is just trying to be a real adult after finishing his eighth year at Hogwarts, but someone keeps sending him threatening letters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are not mine and belong to JK Rowling. I'm simply borrowing them for a bit.

Draco pulled nervously at his robes in front of the large mirror. They fit him perfectly, of course, but smoothing the soft fabric beneath his hands gave his spinning mind something to do. He had checked off every last thing on his to-do list. His trunk lay packed at the foot of his bed. He had swept his room and Harry’s for any forgotten books or clothing. And he had spent an hour that morning perfectly arranging his hair and steaming his robes so they hung perfectly from his frame. His 8th year at Hogwarts was complete.

A quick incantation had the time shimmering in the air before him and he took a deep breath. It was time. Ignoring the busy room around him as his roommates flung their possessions in trunks and dug out their wrinkled dress robes, Draco met Blaise’s eyes where he was perched on the edge of his bed, reading a book. 

“Shall we?” Blaise drawled. He tucked his book into the trunk packed and waiting near Draco’s and led the way out of their room. “You’ve been quiet.” Blaise nudged him as they walked down the hallway leading to the common room. 

“I’ll miss it, is all,” Draco murmured, sparing one last glance at their room. 

“Right,” Blaise snorted. “Like that stuffy room is better than the house you’ll be sharing with me. In London.” 

“Did Harry stay you can stay, then?” 

Blaise nodded, “Yup,” he popped his lips. “Pansy and I are going to be sharing the top floor.” 

“Oh on,” Draco groaned, “your bedroom better not be above mine and Harry’s. I have no desire to hear you two having sex.” 

Blaise snorted, “Like we aren’t constantly hearing each other now as it is. Silencing charms only work for so long when you get distracted, you know.” 

Draco flushed and stepped out into the common room. His eyes automatically scanned for Harry and found him sitting near the fireplace with Pansy perched on the arm of his chair. He and Blaise automatically adjusted their paths. 

“Hey,” Draco said softly, coming to Harry’s free side and sliding his hand gently through Harry’s messy hair. Harry turned towards him with a warm smile and Draco’s chest fluttered in response. 

“Alright, we’re all here.” Ron stood up, pulling Hermione with him. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” 

“You’re always starving,” Pansy poked Ron’s side as she walked by, sending him skittering into Hermione with a yelp that had them all laughing. 

Draco pulled Harry to his feet and joined the back of their group, smiling at how many others milling about the common room joined them as they headed towards the Great Hall. He had come a long way from the beginning of this year, when he was convinced everyone would hate him for all of eternity. Still, he was careful to keep the sleeves of his robes long so they covered the faded dark mark that covered his forearm.

Draco held the tapestry covering the 8th year dorm to the side for Harry as he passed through and let it gently slip through his fingers to fall back into place. He wondered what would happen to the space hidden behind it next year. There would be no further need for an 8th year dorm. Almost all remnants of the war in the castle had been fixed or scrubbed away. And now all the stragglers who hadn’t finished or been around for their 7th year were leaving, too. 

The Great Hall was filled to the brim when they stepped through the doors. There was less than an hour left before the year’s-end commencement began and the Express would be leaving shortly afterward. The house tables were stuffed full of friends talking loudly and embracing tearfully before the summer break truly began. 

Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s and gently tugged him along to where their group was already seated near the front of the room. He caught Headmistress McGonagall’s gaze where she sat at the head table and gave her a nod. All of it felt surreal. His last time in the Great Hall. He didn’t even like the Great Hall. He much preferred the kitchens where he, Harry, and a large rotating cast of the 8th years typically ate. 

Despite having been openly dating for six months, he and Harry still garnered a fair amount of looks wherever they went. When they had first come out — somewhat against their will as reporters caught sight of them embracing at the Manor over Christmas break — it had been total chaos. Draco hadn’t been able to go two steps in the hallway without someone stopping him to ask him what it was like dating Harry. Oftentimes their questions were far more licentious than Draco was comfortable with. 

“Are you ready?” Harry asked, pulling Draco down to sit next to him at the end of the bench. 

“I’m not that hungry,” Draco said, watching in slight disgust as Ron shoveled a mountain of food into his gaping mouth. 

“No, not for food,” Harry grinned at Ron. “For all this to be over.” 

“No,” Draco murmured quietly, “not really.” 

Harry stretched his arm over Draco’s shoulders and tugged him in tight to his side. Typically, Draco was quite uncomfortable with public affection given their seemingly never-ending subjugation to intrigue and gossip, but he couldn’t find it in him to care today. 

“It’s all going to be okay,” Harry whispered into Draco’s hair. 

Draco smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s neck. He sat up and shook off his dark mood. “I can’t see how you possibly think so.” Harry looked very worried and Draco bit back a grin. “I’ve heard from Blaise that you’re letting him move into Grimmuald. We’re never going to get any sleep.” 

Harry’s face brightened and he tipped his head back to laugh. Blaise leered across the table at them both. “Oh, I eventually wore him down. You don’t want to ask how I convinced him.” 

Pansy smacked Blaise’s arm and Draco turned to Harry with eyebrows raised. Harry gave a heartfelt sigh, “It’s true. It was torture. You see, he asked me. And then I said yes.” 

Their end of the table grew loud with laughter. Draco could feel people’s eyes turned their way but managed to ignore them. Their table settled back into its usual rowdy state and Harry placed a few small portions of food on his plate and gave him an impressive pair of puppy dog eyes. Draco grinned and took a big bite just so he could open his mouth a moment later and show Harry his progress with chewing. 

A short while later they filed out of the Great Hall along with what seemed like half the student body towards the chairs that had been arranged on the lawn before the lake. They found seats in the back, where the 7th and 8th year students would be sitting. The chairs continued to fill in all around them until McGonagall stepped forward to the podium. 

Her speech would be a long one, he knew — thanking all the teachers, the students, talking about progress, etc., etc. He let his mind wander, gazing out at the forest on the far side of the lake. He and Harry didn’t talk much about the war, but he knew it was somewhere in that forest that Harry had died. He slid his hand into Harry’s lap and wound their fingers tightly together. 

“And lastly,” McGonagall cleared her throat, “we must acknowledge the tremendous effort put forth by our 7th and 8th years as they finish their time at Hogwarts. These students, like many of you, have overcome not only the academic challenges of your time here, but succeeded despite a heavy emotional toll. For the loved ones we lost here over a year ago, for the brave faces still here today who fought, protected, and saved our school and our lives, I thank you. Hogwarts shall continue on into the future educating and engaging young witches and wizards like yourselves.” 

Harry’s hand had tightened to a painful grip. Draco resisted the urge to look at him, knowing that if he did, the tears that made his vision blurry would fall. He refused to sink lower in his seat, despite the urge. He wondered how many people in the crowd were looking his way, looking at the hand he held tightly in Harry’s. How many people were still upset that the Boy Who Saved Everyone was dating the Boy Who Almost Ruined Everything. 

As if he could read his thoughts, Harry lifted Draco’s hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. McGonagall finished her speech and Draco joined the rest of the crowd as they stood and cheered. McGonagall raised her wand over the crowd and a gentle shimmer of sparkling light fell over them. 

“Well, that’s it then,” Hermione said as they moved slowly through the crowds pushing towards the front gates. 

“Finally,” Ron yawned, “no more school.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Sure, now we just have to go be real adults. Anyone know how to do that?” 

“How hard can it be?” Ron scoffed.

“You’ll come over for dinner tonight, yeah?” Harry asked, turning to Ron and Hermione. They had rented a tiny flat only a few streets over from Grimmauld Place. And Harry had encouraged them all to invite family and friends over for a small celebration.

“Of course,” Hermione said. 

“Mom’s already there,” Ron grimaced. “She’s been supervising the cleaning. If I don’t show up she’ll murder me.” 

“Same here,” Malfoy muttered. “My mother arrived a few days ago. She brought along some of our house elves.

Harry nodded and smiled at them. “You can all groan as much as you like, but I’m excited. We’re done with school. We’re all living in the same neighborhood. We all have great jobs.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Pansy cut in. “I’m an unpaid intern.” 

Hermione huffed, “At the most prestigious fashion magazine in the wizarding world. No one feels bad for you.” Pansy grinned. 

“See,” Harry said, “it’s going to be great.” 

Draco smiled in agreement when Harry looked his way, but couldn’t hold onto the smile long. His hand slid into the pocket of his robes and pressed the letter that lay inside flat to his hip. Draco wished he had Harry’s confidence about the future. But Harry wasn’t the one getting letters with thinly veiled death threats.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is just trying to be a real adult after finishing his eighth year at Hogwarts, but someone keeps sending him threatening letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These characters are not mine and belong to JK Rowling. I'm simply borrowing them for a bit. This chapter includes a slight bit of sexy times. That's going to get worse as this goes on. Consider yourself warned.

It was drizzling when Draco popped into place in an out-of-commission bus stop a block away from Harry’s house. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and his hand around his wand in his pocket, casting a wordless charm overhead to keep off the rain. Harry appeared a second later, right behind him, with Pansy and Blaise arriving a moment after that. 

Blaise dug around in his pocket until he unearthed a joint, putting it to his lips and lighting it with the tip of his wand. He had found a weed dealer at Hogwarts after watching some muggle TV program called That 70s Show for hours on end over Christmas break. He had wanted to buy bellbottoms but Pansy had quickly killed that idea by declaring she would never touch his dick again. 

“Two illegal things,” Harry groaned, looking furtively up and down the empty street. 

“If anyone asks I’ll just say it’s a fancy lighter.” Blaise blew smoke into Harry’s face and handed it to Draco, who took a small puff. 

“And the weed?” 

Blaise shrugged. “It’s a fancy cigarette.” 

Harry shook his head and Draco watched his hand close around the wand in his pocket and heard him whisper a slight disillusionment charm. 

“It’s fine,” Draco nudged his shoulder. “We’ll be home in a minute anyway.” Harry and Draco both froze as one and turned to Blaise.

“You cannot tell my mother I’ve smoked weed,” Draco said, wide-eyed. 

Harry spoke at the same time, “You can’t tell Mr. Weasley you’ve smoked weed.” 

Blaise laughed, took one last drag of the joint, and tossed it into a puddle near the gutter. “I’ll make sure to specifically mention it to both of them.” 

“My mother would murder me,” Draco said with a shiver. “She doesn’t even like when I drink firewhisky. And as good as she is about muggles now, if she knew I was smoking muggle drugs she would not be tolerant.”

“And Mr. Weasley would start smoking it!” Harry said, looking very alarmed. “He’s obsessed with muggle things. Mrs. Weasley would kill us all.” 

“Okay,” Blaise quickly agreed, looking a little alarmed himself at the mention of Mrs. Weasley, “I won’t say anything.” 

Pansy cast a quick spell over Blaise and Draco, removing any scent of their illicit activities, as they climbed the short steps up to the front door of number 12, Grimmauld Place and were hidden from any prying muggle eyes. 

“Mate, it looks great in here,” Blaise said, as Harry shut the front door. 

“Thanks,” Harry began. But the rest of his sentence was drowned out in a flurry of commotion. Draco froze, remembering the dust-figure of Dumbledore, but it was only Mrs. Weasley and his mother thundering up the stairs from the kitchen. 

Draco couldn’t think of a single time his mother had thundered anywhere. She came to a stop in front of him and gently reached out to envelop him in a hug. Harry was being smothered by Mrs. Weasley and met his gaze. 

“Hi, mum,” Draco said, surprised to find his eyes a little damp with tears.

“Hello, dear,” Narcissa said, pulling away. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you, too, mum,” he murmured. She turned towards Blaise and Pansy, opening her arms wide, and Draco turned away to discreetly wipe the moisture from his eyes. 

“Draco, dear, lovely to see you.” Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a tight hug. 

“You as well, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco said, wishing his voice didn’t sound quite so stiff. But he still wasn’t used the easy affection between the Weasleys. Or their apparent forgiveness of everything he and his family had done. He had been a little worried that they would arrive today to find his mother and Mrs. Weasley dueling in the front room. 

“You must call me Molly, dear,” She said, pulling away.

“Of course,” Draco smiled. Mrs. Weasley held him at arm’s length and waited. Harry stood a foot away, looking on with a grin. “Er, Molly.” 

“Excellent,” she squeezed his shoulders and then spun away. “We’re almost finished with the house, it’s only the top floor left.” 

“Oh good,” Blaise groaned, “Pansy and I will be attacked by some frightening Black family relic while we sleep.” 

“We cleaned out one of the rooms for you,” Narcissa reassured him. “It’s just the other that’s left.” 

“Oh,” Blaise brightened, “thanks.” 

“We certainly couldn’t let any of you stay here the way it was,” Mrs. Weasley — Molly — said. 

“What did you do with that screaming painting?” Ron asked, looking at the smooth brick wall that covered the space where it had been. 

“Oh that,” Molly said, looking a little flustered. “So it turns out you really can’t get rid of it. But Narcissa had the brilliant idea of covering up. We essentially buried it under a few layers of sound-proof-charmed brick.” 

“Huh,” Hermione said, looking intrigued.

“Well that’s only slightly terrifying,” Ron said.

“Yes, well, we wanted to make sure this place was habitable before you all moved in,” Molly spoke over her shoulder as she led the way down to the kitchen. 

“Wow,” Harry said as they stepped into the kitchen, “it really does look amazing in here.” He turned to Molly and Narcissa, “Thank you both so much for all the work you’ve done.” 

Molly slid her arm around Narcissa’s waist — and Draco managed to hold in his smile as his mum looked only mildly panicked — and pulled her close. “We were quite happy to, dear. We’re so glad you’ll all be living so close. It’ll make it so much easier to visit.” She bustled into the kitchen and poked and prodded at the many pots and pans that covered the stove. 

“Do you need something to tide you over before the party?” Narcissa asked them all, looking them over. Before Ron could open his mouth, she clapped her hands together, “Excellent. Then you should go upstairs and get freshened up before the party begins. Guests are set to arrive shortly.” 

Ron groaned but was quickly ushered out of the room by Pansy. “I don’t even have any clothes here.” 

“Yes, you do,” Hermione corrected. “I packed some extras for each of us so that we wouldn’t be wrinkly.” Ron seemed to have no response for that and led the way up the stairs at a slow stomp. 

“Harry,” Hermione called over her shoulder, “how many people did you invite? It seemed like quite a spread was cooking in the kitchen.” 

“Erm,” he began, and everyone froze as one to turn and face him in the foyer. “Well, you see, when Molly found out I was planning a party she mentioned that she could take over the planning.” 

Ron snorted, “You mean she bullied you until you let her plan the whole thing.” 

Harry looked away. “I mean, I wouldn’t say that.” 

“My mom found out in a letter,” Draco said. “But I didn’t even know she was going to be here until this morning. She sent me an owl.” 

“So basically, we can expect everyone we know,” Pansy said, looking a little frightened. As her words set in, Draco shared her reaction. Everyone Harry knew was a lot of people. Many of them famous. And almost all of them famous for their fight against the Dark Lord. A fight which Draco, Pansy, and Blaise had been quite vocally on the wrong side of. 

They continued up the stairs in somewhat uneasy silence. Draco could tell that Harry was upset and worried about everyone’s reactions. He slipped his hand into Harry’s, calming his twitching fingers with a tight hold. Draco knew Harry was excited to host everyone he loved in his own home — and to do so with Draco at his side. Despite all their heartfelt conversations about Draco’s continual guilt about his role in the war, Harry still couldn’t quite manage to wrap his head around the discomfort of wondering whether people thought you were as bad as the slime left behind from a slug. He was the Golden Boy, after all. The Boy Who Saved Everyone. 

They went their separate ways on the second-floor landing. Hermione pulled Ron into the spare bedroom down the hall from Harry and Draco’s and Blaise hustled Pansy up the stairs to their third-floor room. 

“You don’t have time to have sex,” Ron yelled up the stairs after them. 

“Ronald,” Hermione said, flushing red. Blaise didn’t look back and flipped Ron the bird as he and Pansy spun the corner. Hermione continued, “what a rude thing to say.” 

Ron shrugged. “You know that’s what they’re going off to do. And I know you’re not going to let us have a quickie, so they shouldn’t get to either.” 

Hermione didn’t respond and stomped past him into their borrowed room, her cheeks glowing bright enough to be seen against her dark skin. 

Harry laughed, his earlier tension slipping away, as Draco hustled him into their room.

“Do you think we have time for a quickie?” he asked, flinging his robes onto a comfy chair near the window. 

Harry shook his head. “No, I should go help your mum and Molly before guests arrive.” 

“Harry,” Draco whined, falling dramatically onto their plush, comfy bed. “If Pansy gets to have sex I want to, too. She’ll just be bothering me all night otherwise.” 

“What?” Harry laughed, “is that something you two actually do? Bother each other about who’s having more sex?” 

“Of course,” Draco said, pushing up onto his elbows to watch Harry undress. “That week that Blaise got that weird rash and they couldn’t touch in case it spread I don’t think I had a single conversation with Pansy where I didn’t tell her in explicit detail about our sex life.” 

Harry shook his head, “Your relationship with her is so strange.” 

Draco shrugged, “Yeah, probably.” The urge to come up with a witty response died on his tongue as Harry stepped out of his pants. A couple months before, when they had all been starting their job searches for after graduation, Harry had suddenly decided to switch out all of his goofy, colorful boxers for tight boxer-briefs. He claimed they made him feel more professional, but Draco was pretty sure he kept them all because the first time he wore them Draco’s eyes had basically rolled back in his head. They had sex six times that night. 

The affect still hadn’t worn off, and Draco bit his lip and slid a hand down to palm his cock as Harry stood in the light-drenched room wearing only tight black briefs. Harry had paused with one hand reaching towards the nice clothes that were folded neatly at the top of his trunk. 

“Draco,” he groaned, “we really don’t have the time.” 

Draco shrugged again. “It’s not my fault you took off your pants. You know what happens when you do.” 

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation, but Draco could see the gleam in his eye. Not to mention a certain part of his anatomy that was rising to attention quite obviously. “So I can never get undressed in here without you wanting to jump me? Where am I supposed to change?” 

“The bathroom would work,” Draco said, obviously stroking himself over his pants. 

Harry growled and took two large steps towards Draco. He roughly undid the buttons and zipper holding his trousers closed and tugged them down — along with Draco’s briefs — until he could pull them off. Draco’s breathing got shaky as Harry abruptly pulled his hips to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees. Harry’s hands and mouth brought him to a blindingly quick release. 

When he had regained some of his wits, he dropped down next to Harry on the floor and pushed his hands out of the way to return the favor. After, they lay in a sweaty pool together on the floor for a few minutes, catching their breath and lightly tracing the lines of each other’s body. 

“Time to get up,” Harry said, dropping a kiss on Draco’s forehead. 

Draco groaned but rose to his feet. “Do you think I have time for a shower?” 

“No!” Harry practically shouted. Draco looked at him, eyebrows raised and affronted. Harry looked sheepish. “It’s just that you take the world’s longest showers.” He grabbed his wand, “Here, I’ll cast a quick cleaning charm on us both.” 

“Fine,” Draco grumbled, “but you know it doesn’t get you as clean as a shower does.” 

After casting the spell, Harry and Draco moved automatically around the room, pulling out clothes and hurrying into them. As much as Draco had joked, he didn’t want to make Harry late for his first house party. 

Harry, of course, was ready far before him. He let Draco add a little product to his hair with only a little grumbling, but then he was out the door, headed downstairs to help. Draco grinned to see him go clattering down the stairs with a big grin on his face before turning back to his own preparations. Although Harry was woefully blasé about his appearance — not that he didn’t look good enough to eat every day of the week — Draco was much more fastidious. 

Narcissa caught Draco in the hallway on the second floor just as he was stepping out of his room. “There you are, darling. I had forgotten how long it takes you to get ready.” 

“Mum,” he groaned, “it takes time to look this good.” 

She waved away his protests. “Yes, dear. I’m sure Harry appreciates it.” She tucked her hand into the pocket of her dress robes. “Before I forget, you had a letter delivered this morning. I didn’t want it to get lost among all the nonsense that was in your mailbox. Muggle postage is really quite strange. Molly called it all junk mail. Who sends things they know are junk?” 

Luckily, Narcissa was too engrossed in the peculiarities of muggles to notice the color drain from Draco’s face as he took the letter from her hand. The handwriting was startlingly familiar to the one that was still hiding in the pocket of his cloak. 

“Thanks, Mum,” he said, pasting on a smile. “I’m going to run into the restroom and then I’ll see you downstairs.” 

She turned away, oblivious to the nerves that were swirling in his belly. “Don’t be long. The guests should be arriving any minute.” 

“I won’t.” He side-stepped away from her and spun into the bathroom. 

Draco shut the door behind him and unsealed the parchment, a little dirty from being sent through muggle mail. His fingers were shaking slightly and his chest tightened at the messy, scrawling script that covered the page. It was a perfect match to the letter that was still stuffed in the depths of his cloak. 

Draco quickly scanned the letter, worried that Harry would be knocking on the bathroom door at any moment. His attempts at acting like nothing was wrong never fooled Harry. It was like he had a second sense — an annoying buzzer in his head that rang like one of those terrifying muggle cooking timers whenever Draco was the slightest bit upset. Draco attributed it to the years they had spent watching each other — stalking each other, really — from afar. 

The letter was the same rambling mess that the first one was. It was full of spewing vitriol attacking Draco’s character, intermingled with obsessive odes to Harry. And the last paragraph concluded with angry intensity — promising that the mystery letter writer would free Harry from Draco’s evil, clutching grasp by any means necessary. 

Draco carefully smoothed the letter closed and tucked it into his pants pocket. He had received the first one a week before — an owl he hadn’t recognized tapping at the window in his shared room at Hogwarts, when he had been sitting alone, studying a heavy tome laid across his lap. The owl had found him here, at Grimmauld Place, too. Before he had even arrived. And it had been sent through muggle mail, which Draco knew took more time than owl delivery. 

The tight twist in Draco’s stomach held. When he had read the first letter — once, then again — his first inclination was to flee. To run as far as possible from Harry and the anonymous person who was threatening the happiness he had found. On one hand, it felt somewhat fitting that someone had rightfully decided that he didn’t deserve the happiness he had found after his role in the war. On the other hand, he was livid that some stupid, nameless, faceless person was threatening Harry. And by association, threatening the life that Draco had grown quite comfortable living. Draco didn’t like people who tried to take his things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These characters are not mine and belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Harry throws a party at Grimmauld Place. Draco tries to have a good time.

Draco opened the bathroom door and stuck his head outside, looking both ways to make sure the hallway was clear. With no sign of anyone except for the sounds of talking and laughter a few floors below, Draco raced to his room and shoved his letter at the very bottom of his trunk. 

With a last glance in the mirror, making sure his internal panic hadn’t spread obviously into his appearance, he hurried down the stairs.

“There you are,” Harry said warmly, meeting him in the foyer. Draco stepped down off the stairs, straight into Harry’s open arms. He pulled him close, breathing in the faintly sweet smell that seemed to cling to Harry’s skin — like he had bathed in treacle tart. 

“It’s your fault,” Draco said, pushing Harry away only to decide a moment later to keep him close. Harry just grinned as Draco tugged him back and forth.

“Why is that?” He asked, reaching up to press his hand to Draco’s cheek. 

Draco nuzzled into his palm. “You wouldn’t let me take a real shower. I had to work harder on my appearance since I’m basically dirty.” 

Harry laughed, “If I had let you take a shower you would still be in there, singing off-key.” 

Draco gasped, “I have an excellent singing voice.” 

Harry’s response was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door. Draco pulled away from Harry’s embrace as a loud shout floated up from the kitchen and feet thundered up the stairs. 

Harry caught Draco’s hand in his — unfortunate, really, as Draco had been hoping to stay as far away from the immediate greeting of guests as possible. Ron came tumbling up the stairs from the basement first, looking very flustered as Molly came barreling after him. 

“Guests!” She yelled as if Draco and Harry hadn’t heard the knock. 

Harry grinned at her and pulled the door open, revealing a clump of wizards, all trying to balance on the small front stoop, out of sight of the muggles. George stepped forwards first, Percy hot on his heels. George managed to shake Harry’s hand before he and Percy were swept up in a tight hug from Molly. George’s friend Lee — Draco couldn’t erase the memory of the time he brought a tarantula on the Hogwarts Express and quite purposefully released it into a car full of Slytherins — stepped forward next, along with some other friends of the endlessly large Weasley family. 

The door had no sooner swung shut than it rattled with another loud knock. Hermione and Pansy had managed to squeeze through the fray to stand on either side of Draco and he was eternally grateful for their presence. He didn’t know if they were trying to protect him or seeking his protection, but either way, he didn’t plan to leave their sides until this mad parade of people came to an end. 

Draco hardly noticed as Harry opened the door a second, third, and fourth time. He was too busy shaking hands with everyone who stopped in front of him and making the nonsensical polite chit-chat that he was practically a professional at. 

He felt like one of those silly muggles that waved glow sticks at planes so they knew where to go. He managed to inch his way farther and farther from the door until he and Pansy were the last in the line of welcome. They directed people down into the kitchen, into the front room to drop off their coats, gave directions to all four bathrooms in the house, and generally acted like they lived there. Which, Draco realized with a slight shock, they now did. 

The thought bolstered him slightly—enough to hold onto the grimace that was plastered to his face until it became more natural. After the wave of Gryffindors almost entirely composed of Weasleys started to slow, other guests began to arrive. Draco grinned as Professor Slughorn came ambling through the doorway, rubbing his hands together and looking mightily pleased at the assembled guests. After shaking Harry’s hand so vigorously that Harry practically fell over, Slughorn caught sight of Draco and his smile became significantly more genuine. 

Pansy groaned at Draco’s side, “Who invited the slug master?” 

“I did,” Draco said, giving her a haughty look. “He’s the reason I have a job.” 

“He’s a pain in the arse,” she grumbled under her breath as Slughorn shoved through the crowd to reach them. 

“He’s my mentor and the reason I have a good job. Be nice,” Draco hissed under his breath.

“Draco, m’boy!” Slughorn beamed and swept Draco up into a tight hug. Draco endured it, used to his professor’s ways. He had been content to go his entire life thinking Slughorn was an idiot, but halfway through eighth year Slughorn had caught Draco breaking into the potion’s closet for a rare ingredient he needed to brew a potion. Slughorn had eventually convinced Draco to reveal that the potion was for an internship application. Although Slughorn often came off as a bit of a preening, power-hungry idiot, he was also genuinely good at potion-making and had a list of useful contacts as long as his considerably large belt. Draco had gotten lucky, and Slughorn hadn’t punished him for his attempted theft and had become Draco’s mentor. He was the reason Draco had a prestigious internship working at a top-rated medical potion-making company. 

Slughorn nodded at Pansy in dismissal before launching into a list of all the famous people who had called him in the 24 hours since term had ended, congratulating him on the success of his pupils. Draco nodded along, well used to the professors’ quirks. Pansy, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and stepped around Slughorn to greet a group of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs who had come in together. 

“Are you excited for your internship?” Slughorn asked once he finally ran out of names to drop.

Draco nodded, “I am. Yeah. I’m going to learn so much. I just hope,” he trailed off, realizing too late he shouldn’t be complaining about his internship to the man who had secured it for him. 

“Just hope what? Hmm?” 

Draco shifted, hoping he could catch Harry’s eye across the room. Harry would save him. Slughorn was very flustered by Harry’s complete and total lack of interest in him. But Slughorn moved with Draco so that he couldn’t escape. Draco sighed. “I’m not sure what my reception will be, sir.” 

“Hmph,” Slughorn harrumphed. “That’s nothing to worry about. They knew who you were when they accepted you.” Draco nodded, trying to convince himself that what Slughorn said was true. “And if they give you shit at the beginning, they’ll stop once they see how talented you are.” 

Draco ducked his head, his cheeks uncomfortably warm. “Thank you, sir.” Slughorn gave him a hard slap on the shoulder and then spun on his heel to trot down the stairs into the kitchen. Harry finally met his eye and Draco realized that the small foyer had emptied of guests while he was talking to Slughorn. 

“I’m still surprised that you managed to put up with him mentoring you for an entire semester,” Harry said, sliding his arm around Draco’s waist and turning them towards the kitchen, which seemed to be the unofficial gathering place of all events in the house. Draco wasn’t looking forward to the two flights of stairs he would have to go down just to reach tea every morning. 

“We’re going to need a tea set in our room,” Draco said. “And Slughorn isn’t that bad once you get him started about potions. He’s actually an incredible potion-master.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “He’s just completely obsessed with collecting famous people.” 

“Sure,” Draco shrugged, “that part is annoying.” 

Harry shook his head with a smile and slid free of Draco as they reached the bottom of the stairs. They were immediately swallowed up into the crowd that had gathered in the space. The large table that dominated the room adjacent to the kitchen was packed, with George and Lee sharing the same seat at the head of the table and holding court. 

Draco stuck to the perimeter of the room, shaking hands, giving awkward hugs, and trying to subtly avoid interacting with the people who he imagined disapproved of his presence in Harry’s house. Even after months of dating, Kingsley still gave Draco dirty looks. Which would be uncomfortable on its own, but the bodyguards surrounding the Minister of Magic also gave Draco dirty looks. Draco wasn’t totally convinced that they weren’t going to hex him when his back was turned and call it an accident. 

His mood lightened as he made his way through the crowd. For every person whose presence made him slightly uncomfortable, there was someone else who called his name across the room or shook his hand with a wide smile. As strange as it was to combine his and Harry’s lives, this party was proof that it could work. That two sides of an awful war could come together in the aftermath and find common ground. 

He waved to his mom, who was standing guard over a large bubbling cauldron in the kitchen, and slipped into the larger room in the basement filled with extra chairs and a large, squashy couch. Draco didn’t want to know how many strange dark artifacts had filled this room before his mom and Molly had cleared it out. He could still smell the very faint scent of burnt cleaning potion in the air. 

“Draco,” Arthur Weasley appeared in front of him, grinning.

“Hi Mr. Weasley,” Draco smiled. Surprisingly, Arthur was one of his favorites of the Weasley clan. Although Draco had no interest in the workings of muggle contraptions, he did understand that deep, intrinsic need to understand just how something came together. 

“None of that, now. It’s Arthur to you. You’re family now,” Arthur said, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Draco felt his cheeks warm and tried not to squirm. While he appreciated the Weasley’s support of his relationship with Harry more than he could say, their enthusiasm sometimes made him a little uncomfortable. Draco didn’t think that he and Harry were ever going to break up, but thinking about that in terms of forever and family made him feel uncomfortably close to having a panic attack. 

“This is a hopping party you boys have put together,” Arthur continued, looking around the room and sipping at his pumpkin juice.

Draco coughed into his fist to hide his laugh. “Thanks, Arthur. We didn’t have much to do with it, though. It was all Molly and my mother.” 

Arthur nodded, “That makes sense. While I know that you and Hermione could put together a fancy shindig, I was surprised Harry and Ron had put so much effort into cleaning this place up.” 

Draco nodded, “We were anticipating a week of cleaning before our jobs started next week.” 

“Ah, yes,” Arthur crowed, “entering the workforce. You guys are all grown up.” Draco pretended not to notice as Arthur swiped at his eyes with the loose sleeve of his jumper. 

“Well,” Draco grinned, “with Ron at George’s shop I don’t know how much growing up he’s going to do.” 

Arthur laughed, “That’s true. Very true.” He dropped his eyes. “It’ll be good for George to have the company.” 

Draco nodded quickly. “It will.” 

Arthur turned towards him and placed a heavy hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco was alarmed to see Arthur’s eyes were misty. This was very far from the conversations about scientific discoveries that Draco enjoyed having with Mr. Weasley. “I’m very glad for you all, you know. Molly and I both are. It means the world to us to see you all happy and safe. You all deserve it.” 

Arthur gave him a hard look, holding Draco’s gaze when all he wanted was to look away. Eventually, Draco nodded, Arthur gave his shoulder a hard squeeze, and then he left, holding up his empty mug and turning towards the kitchen. 

Draco stood rooted to the spot, his stomach churning uncomfortably. He had been caught up in the party, the small-talk, the friends and acquaintances who were happy to see him. But he wasn’t just a boy throwing a party with his boyfriend. He was Draco Malfoy, who had lived with Voldemort in his house and in his head. Dating the Boy Who Saved Them All. 

The rest of the party passed in an uncomfortable blur. He smiled and chatted and managed to hold it together by avoiding Pansy and Harry entirely. They would see right through his forced grin. There were moments where he managed to forget again. Alcohol helped. The hour that he spent with George and Lee hidden in an upstairs bedroom, smoking a joint and laughing uproariously helped. But then he inevitably remembered again — that no matter how long passed from the war where he chose the wrong side, he would always carry that weight. He would always have to deal with people who didn’t think he deserved to be by Harry’s side. Which made it hard to believe it himself. 

Hours later, the party was dying down and Draco was exhausted. Pansy had started looking at him funny an hour before and he was relieved when Blaise claimed her attention. They stood awkwardly in the foyer with Harry and Draco as they shooed all their guests out the door. Thank goodness for Andromeda heading home with a sleepy baby Teddy, which prompted the wave of other guests gathering their coats and heading out into the chilly night air to apparate home. 

“Mate, we’re staying at your house tonight,” George said, clapping his hands down on Draco’s upper arms and pulling him in for an alarmingly tight hug. Draco froze, shocked and slightly aroused at George’s body pressed close, before George suddenly let him go. He led the way into the sitting room, Ginny and Lee close on his tail. Draco caught sight of two half-empty bottles of fire whiskey between the trio, and Lee was carrying a distressingly large bag labeled brightly with the Wizard Wheezes logo. 

Percy watched them go fondly before shrugging on his greatcoat and giving a brisk shake to Draco’s hand. Draco ushered the last few stragglers closer to Harry where he held the door open.

Harry met Draco’s gaze as he gently closed the door behind the last of their guests. Draco could hear Pansy and Blaise racing up the steps a floor above them. Ginny, George, and Lee were cackling hysterically in the next room. Harry’s hand slid up to the metal turning lock used by muggles to secure a door and gently flipped it closed. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Draco said softly. “The wards won’t let anyone in.” He gave a gentle wave of his wand and felt the warm comfort of the wards settling into place.

“I know,” Harry said, extending a hand for Draco’s. Draco gave it to him. Would always give it to him. Harry caught his hand and squeezed lightly. He gave a light tug and Draco’s body swayed towards him. “Welcome home.” 

Draco grinned and caught himself against Harry’s chest, sliding his hands around Harry’s waist. “Home,” he repeated, unable to stop the giant grin that lifted his cheeks. 

They held each other and swayed gently. Draco went up on tiptoes so he could tuck Harry’s head under his chin. 

A loud bang from the sitting room had them flying apart. Harry had his wand out and was running into the room before Draco could slip in front of him in case they weren’t just vastly overreacting. He stopped in the doorway, his heart beating harder than was comfortable in his chest. George was laying sprawled out on the floor, covered head to toe in bright purple dye. Ginny and Lee were on the couch, curled over with laughter. 

Draco let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and let his wand drop to his side. Stupid Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Harry laughed and tucked his wand back into his jeans, but Draco didn’t miss the way his hand shook. Draco certainly wasn’t the only one who still carried baggage from the war. He wondered if any of them would ever really be able to set it down. 

Draco shook his head admonishingly at George, who met his gaze with a bewildered look, and ushered Harry out of the room. 

“The less we know, the better,” Draco said, “for when you have to file an insurance claim.” 

Harry laughed and let Draco herd him towards the stairs and up into their bedroom. Draco shut the door behind them and leaned against it, taking what felt like the first full breath of the night. 

“That was fun,” Harry smiled, shooting a glance at Draco before quickly looking away. 

Draco straightened and moved to their dresser, where all his clothes lay nicely folded and put-away. He thought of Hermione and said a mental thanks to the house elf, Wobbly, Harry had hired to take care of the house. 

“Did you have fun?” Harry asked. Draco turned towards him, his sweater half-off. 

He pulled it over his head and hid his clenched hands in the soft fabric. “Yeah, of course I did.” Harry nodded and continued to look at him. “You know, it was busy. Lots of people,” Draco babbled. 

Harry nodded and sat heavily on the bed. Draco heard a slight crinkling sound and froze. He watched in panicked disbelief as Harry made a confused sound and dug out a crinkled, dirty letter. Draco’s eyes widened so severely it would have felt comical if he wasn’t so terrified. He glanced at his trunk, which sat empty in the corner of the room, stacked atop Harry’s trunk, which was also likely empty. Stupid, efficient house elf. 

“What’s this?” Harry asked softly. “It’s addressed to you.” Harry held it out and looked up. He froze as he took in Draco’s panicked appearance. “Draco, what is this?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has to talk about feelings. Harry comforts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically a panic attack and then sex. If that may trigger you, please don’t read on. As always, these characters belong to JK Rowling.

Draco stared at the letter in Harry’s hand and tried to take a deep breath. His chest seemed strangely stuck. His heart was beating hard and fast and Draco wondered if its movement was somehow inhibiting his lungs. 

“Draco,” he heard Harry’s voice from far away. It sounded mad. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the letter in Harry’s hand. And his lungs weren’t working. And his ears had started ringing. He was having a heart attack, he thought wildly as his chest filled with an aching heat. 

“Draco,” Harry said again, very close to Draco’s head. Draco couldn’t tell if Harry’s voice still sounded mad. He could hardly hear anything over the sound of his short, quick breaths. Rough hands began chafing the skin of his arms, up and down over his button-up, and Draco flinched away. Harry stood in front of him, hands held wide, palms out towards Draco. Harry’s eyes were wide, the soft green surrounded on every side with white. Draco’s eyes felt too big, too. 

Moving very slowly, Harry set his hands carefully over Draco’s, where he was still clutching his sweater. Draco dropped the sweater and flipped his hands to grab hard at Harry’s. He didn’t understand why Harry wasn’t calling for help, why he wasn’t apparating with Draco right into the St. Mungo’s waiting room. But his throat was too tight to speak. Too tight to breathe. 

Harry pried one hand loose from Draco’s tight grip, and wrapped his arm tightly around Draco’s shoulders, pulling him in until his head could rest on Harry’s shoulder. Draco turned his face into Harry’s neck and took spasming breaths of his scent. Draco dropped Harry’s other hand to twist his own in the soft fabric of Harry’s jumper. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m going to make everything okay.” Harry crooned. His arms were tight around Draco, and the pressure should have felt limiting — his lungs were already too tight — but it felt good, instead. Like maybe his heart might calm down if only Harry squeezed hard enough. 

Harry breathed loudly into Draco’s hair. Eventually, Draco realized Harry wanted him to breathe to the same rhythm. Slow, deep breaths. Draco tried, with little hiccups that made him realize that he was crying. Slowly, his lungs relaxed and he could pull deep breaths into the bottom of his lungs. His heart rate slowed and he no longer felt like his chest was going to explode. 

“Good job,” Harry said softly. He gently nudged Draco’s head away from his shoulder and led them towards the bed, where they sat down side by side. Harry kept his arms around Draco — one rubbing soft, gentle circles on his back and the other holding both of Draco’s hands in his lap. 

“Do you feel like talking?” Harry asked softly, nuzzling into Draco’s hair. Draco shrugged. His mind felt foggy and he wasn’t really sure how to answer Harry’s question. He would rather be hit with a jelly-legs jinx than have this conversation but he also wanted to give Harry an explanation for this meltdown. He could feel how quickly Harry's heart was beating and knew he had frightened more than just himself. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, once his mind finally managed to string a few words together. 

“About what?” 

Draco looked down at his lap and traced his fingers over Harry’s hand instead of meeting his soft gaze. He shrugged again. “For worrying you.” 

“With your panic attack?” 

Draco frowned. He realized that he hadn’t been having a heart attack but he hadn’t thought to label his…event…any differently. “I’m not panicked,” he said. His chest grew a little tight at the words and he had to consciously focus on taking a deep breath. 

He felt Harry shrug and nod against his hair. “No, but you’ve been stressed.” Harry stopped rubbing Draco’s back to slide his arm around Draco’s waist, holding him tight. “And you don’t have to apologize for being upset, whatever you want to call it.” 

Draco was alarmed to realize his eyes were watering. He turned his face into Harry’s neck so he wouldn’t see and muffled his sniffles against Harry’s jumper. 

“Love, please talk to me. We don’t have to talk about the letter if you don’t want to. I just want to know you’re okay.” 

Draco took a shuddery breath at the reminder of the letter. Stupid blasted letter. Keeping his head ducked, he sat up and wiped his eyes. The letter had fallen to the floor and Draco bent to pick it up. The parchment shook slightly in his grip. He handed it wordlessly to Harry, his stomach clenching hard. 

“May I look?” Harry asked considerately, frowning down at Draco’s name on the front. 

Draco nodded. Harry gave him a reassuring smile Draco couldn’t return. He watched with growing anxiety as Harry’s eyes moved across the page. His eyebrows drew closer and closer together and his mouth pulled tight. Draco couldn’t breathe. 

“Who the fuck does this person think they are?” Harry growled once he reached the end of the letter. He crumbled it between his hands. Draco jumped. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, catching his movement. “I didn’t mean to crumble your letter.” He unfurled it and smoothed it against his legs. 

“No,” Draco frowned. “I don’t want it. It’s not—I don’t like it.” 

Harry met his gaze and Draco could feel the heat in his cheeks. “Good,” Harry said, somewhat nonsensically. “That’s good.” 

Draco snorted and that seemed to break the strange tension between them.

“Come here, love,” Harry said, pulling Draco close and toppling over so they lay next to each other across the bed. 

“That’s the second one,” Draco mumbled. When Harry looked at him in confusion he added, “the second letter. I got one last week, too.” 

“While you were at Hogwarts?” Harry asked, looking thunderous. Draco nodded. “So they knew where to find you at Hogwarts and here?” 

Draco nodded miserably. Despite the many, many times Harry had assured him otherwise, he felt like a liability. Like a giant, perfectly-dressed, blonde albatross hanging around Harry’s neck. 

Harry seemed to read his thoughts and squashed his face close to Draco’s so they were nose to nose. “I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone in the world except you. And I’m not going to let this obsessive person hurt you.” 

Draco nodded, rubbing the tip of his nose against Harry’s. Harry gently untangled himself from Draco’s embrace and began to slowly finish undressing him. Once Draco was lying naked across the bed like a large, pale starfish, Harry removed the last of his own clothing. 

“You know we’re going to have to tell Hermione,” Harry said gently, nudging Draco to the side so he could tug the covers out from underneath him. 

Draco rolled across the bed with a groan. Telling Harry was bad enough. Once Hermione knew they would start trying to solve his problem when all he wanted to do was squirrel the letters away in the back of a drawer and never look at them again. “Do we have to?” he grumbled with his face buried in a pillow. 

Harry climbed into bed beside him and pulled the blankets up over them both. He poked and prodded at Draco until he was tucked under Harry’s chin. 

“Yes,” Harry said, snuffling Draco’s hair, “we have to tell her. She’ll figure out what to do.” 

“Later,” Draco mumbled, pressing his lips to Harry’s chest. “We’ll tell her if I get another one.” 

“Draco,” Harry admonished. 

“Later,” Draco said again, sucking gently at the base of Harry’s neck, where he could feel his pulse getting faster against his lips. 

Harry swallowed and Draco traced the movement with his tongue. “Fine,” Harry grumbled and slid his hand into Draco’s hair, tugging his head back so he could reach Draco’s lips. 

Their kiss quickly turned dirty and fierce. Draco could feel the heat beneath his skin like a burning flame. Draco pulled Harry closer until he could feel his bare skin down the length of his body. He scraped his nails down Harry’s back and reveled at his groan. 

Harry slid down the bed until he could press his open mouth to Draco’s chest. He bit down hard on Draco’s skin before soothing the ache with his tongue. Draco would have an intense bruise in the morning but he didn’t push Harry away. He arched his hips into Harry’s and clamped his hands down over Harry’s ass so he could drag Harry’s dick a little harder against his own. 

Harry detached from Draco’s chest long enough to mumble a spell under his breath that had a small jar of lube noisily rattling inside the bedside table before it flew free and into Harry’s hand. Draco laughed breathlessly at the thought of Wobbly carefully unpacking their half-used jar of lube and placing it in the bedside table. 

“What’s so funny?” Harry said, biting Draco’s shoulder and slicking up his hand. Draco’s answer was lost in a gasp as Harry wrapped his hand around their cocks. 

It wasn’t long before Draco was rutting into Harry’s grip, his hands pulling Harry closer and tangling in his messy hair. He came with a shout he muffled against Harry’s skin. Harry gasped soon after, biting down hard enough to sting on the smooth skin of Draco’s bicep. 

They caught their breath, Harry splayed out across Draco’s chest. He could feel the beat of Harry’s heart, racing as fast as his own. As much as he loved sex, he liked this part just as well. The quiet moments where the intimacy lingered. He liked stretching it out, holding Harry tight and breathing in his scent. 

When Harry’s breathing turned snuffly, Draco rolled them both to the side so they lay facing each other, still tangled together. Harry grumbled in protest and then slipped back into his half-asleep state. Draco groped around for his wand on the bedside table, said a quick cleaning charm, and then pulled the covers up to cover them both. Harry was already fast asleep. 

It took Draco longer to slip into sleep. His mind was too busy running in circles. He was glad Harry had agreed not to tell Hermione. Once they did, there would be no letting it go. And Draco was still holding out hope that this strange, angry person would lose interest in the Boy Who Saved the World’s delinquent boyfriend.

And if they didn’t lose interest, well, he still wasn’t 100% convinced that Harry and Hermione would be able to solve this problem like the little Gryffindor heroes they were at heart. They had futures to think about now. They weren’t children, getting in over their heads and fighting wars they never should have been involved with. They were adults. With budding careers and reputations that would follow them for the rest of their lives. Draco didn’t want to taint Harry’s reputation any more than he already had. 

Eventually, his circling thoughts slowed and he fell into an uneasy sleep. Harry rolled onto his back and began to quietly snore. Short bursts of laughter and noise drifted faintly up from where Ginny, George, and Lee would stay up into the early hours of the morning, making a ruckus, until they were all so tired that they couldn’t help but fall asleep, sprawled across the furniture. Upstairs, Blaise held Pansy in his arms, singing a lullaby in a scratchy whisper until they both drifted off, still wearing their socks.


End file.
